30 Minutes To Go
by Nash Carter
Summary: Things that can happen 30 minutes before the end of a shift. Watches, robbers, things like that...


30 Minutes To Go

It was one of those days that seemed to be custom made for the tourists. Sunny, warm, but not too hot. Just a few harmless clouds in the sky, like cotton balls. Very little smog. The wind soft and balmy. Beautiful. But even the most beautiful of days had their downsides. Like working. One of those days when you can't wait for your shift to end.

Detective David Starsky sighed for the umpteenth time as he lifted his left wrist to check the time, only to remember that there was no longer a watch on that wrist. Instead there was an angry red scratch, and he was torn between grieving the loss of a great watch and marveling the fact he still had a mostly healthy, mostly undamaged hand and wrist. Scratch that, the fact that he still had a wrist at all.

This could have turned really ugly... Earlier that day a hyped up junkie had attempted a robbery, and in the resulting gunfight he had tried to shoot Starsky, only he had missed - mostly. All he had hit was the armband of his watch. The bullet had severed it nicely, the watch fell to the ground, got badly scratched, and that alone was distracting the perp enough for the two detectives to take him down without further gunplay. The only casualty was Starsky's watch.

"Starsk, it's about two minutes later than last time you checked." While relieved that all his partner had lost that day was his watch, after a whole day of listening to Starsky's yammering about that damn watch Hutch's patience began to wear thin.

"Really? Feels much longer." Another sigh. "Oh man, I hate not having a watch." He resigned himself to his fate, already trying to figure out where to get the money he would need for a new watch.

Seeing his friend's expression, Hutch felt a twinge of guilt. After the close call Starsky had had that day, he certainly deserved to grouse about something. And if knowing the time made him happy, that was easy enough to do. Hutch pulled out his pocket watch, opened it, then said, "Five thirty."

Starsky's whole face lit up at that. "Really? Means we have only 30 more minutes to go till the end of the shift! Hey, wanna come with me? I know this great place -"

"All units in the vicinity of 16th and Baker, we have a 211 in Webster's jewelry store. One suspect, armed and dangerous."

Now it was Hutch's turn to sigh, he really had not wanted any more action today, at least not this kind of action. But the crime scene was only two blocks away, so he hit the gas while Starsky called their ETA in.

Stopping the car just out of view of the shop's windows, the two cops silently made their way over to the store, peeking in through the glass front. Then it was time to make a plan.

Starsky took his broken watch out of his pocket. "I'll pretend to be a customer, ask about fixing this. You take the back." A look passed between the two. _Be careful, don't get hurt._

Giving Hutch the customary two minutes to get around to the back, Starsky took a few deep breaths, checked his Beretta, and hid it in the waistband of his jeans, in the small of his back. Then it was time to make his move.

None of the people in the store could have suspected that the tall, dark, handsome guy who just stepped in through the door was anything but a regular customer. Whistling cheerily, he fumbled with an obviously broken watch and didn't seem to even notice who else was in there.

"Hi there. Think you can fix this?" His deep blue eyes met the store owner's calmly, not giving away that he knew what was going on.

"Wh- wh- what's wrong with it?" Big drops of sweat stood on the elderly man's forehead. As he took the broken watch from his 'customer's' hands, his fingers trembled so badly he dropped it on the glass counter.

(here is where i stopped after 30 minutes, asking if they wanted the rest g. i'm mean, huh?)

This was the moment the robber chose to remind the store owner of his presence. "I said, open the cash register!"

The old man visibly shrank into himself, paling by a few shades. But it was the distraction both Starsky and Hutch had been waiting for. His attention shifting back and forth between the new customer and the store owner, he gave Hutch the perfect opening for his entrance.

"Freeze, police!"

Another distraction, and the now no longer cool robber spun around to meet this new threat, giving Starsky the ideal opportunity for his move. In one swift motion he had his gun in his hand and pointed straight at the perp, and Hutch had hardly finished speaking before he added, "That's right, buster, BCPD, now lose that cannon and put your hands up where we can see them!"

The owner, Mr. Webster, had the good sense to take cover as far away as he could, without getting in the line of fire. The perp, too, proved he had some sense left, dropping his gun and raising his hands high over his head. His nervous eyes darted between the two cops who had outsmarted him so thoroughly. Hutch holstered his Magnum, moved over, pushed him none to gently to the ground and cuffed his wrists expertly behind his back while reading him his rights.

All the while Starsky kept his gun trained at the felon, not taking any risks, watching him like the proverbial hawk. And that was how he even noticed.

Suddenly the suspect's eyes went wide and triumphant, fixed at a point somewhere behind Starsky. Reacting instinctively, he spun around, and even as he pulled the trigger and moved to put himself between Hutch and the new perp who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, he yelled a warning. "HUUUUUTCH!"

Years of working together had made Hutch's reaction to that particular tone in his partner's voice second nature. Pushing the suspect to the ground and dropping to his knees to make himself a smaller target, he had his gun in his hand a split second later. But he could see at first glance that it was no longer necessary. The second robber would need an ambulance, but he was lucky Starsky was such a good shot. His bullet had found its mark high in the perp's right shoulder, not very dangerous, but certainly painful.

But why was Starsky not already up and cuffing him?

Just as he started to wonder, his friend slowly got to his feet. His gun still trained on the injured felon, he didn't bother turning around while he said, "Hutch, would you mind? Cuff him and read him his rights."

Not taking his eyes off the bleeding man, Hutch complied. But even as he worked on the suspect, his worry was for his partner. _What's wrong, why do you leave that to me, why is your voice so strange?_

Finally, he could turn all his attention on Starsky. And what he saw shook him up to the core. _Oh my God._ Starsky's face was white and tight with pain, his right hand pressed tightly against the left side of ribcage, blood flowing freely from whatever injury was hidden there.

"Call an ambulance! No, make that two, and hurry, dammit!"

Hutch didn't look to see if his orders got through to the store owner, first he had to see to his partner for himself. "Easy, Starsk, let me help you, how bad is it? Oh my God, Starsky, I -" Not knowing what else to say, the words dying on his lips Hutch gently guided his friend over to where a few chairs stood. He could see that Starsky was in quite some pain, a fine sheen of sweat covered his pale face and his jaw was set in such a way to prevent any sound of pain from escaping. "Easy, Starsk, just - just take it easy, okay? I'm here, buddy."

At Starsky's warning, he had reacted purely on instinct, trusting his partner blindly. He had seen him move, seen him put himself between potential danger and his partner. Had Starsky taken a bullet otherwise meant for him? _Oh God, please no! Don't let him be hurt because he protected me, please..._ All he could do now was do his best to help his injured friend. As gently as he could, he eased him into one of the chairs, then, just as gently he pried Starsky's finger away from his wound to take a look.

Blood. Lots of it. On his jacket, on his shirt, soaking into his jeans. Pain in his eyes. Some fear. But most of all trust. And a silent, _as long as you're okay, nothing else matters._ Hutch took a steadying breath before he carefully pulled away Starsky's shirt. And for a moment, he couldn't believe what his eyes told him.

A long, bloody, graze. Deep, wide and painful. But not more. Just a graze. Probably cracked or broke a rib, too, but - just a graze. Hutch felt almost dizzy with relief. No bullet in his best friend's body. No hole where his body was not intended to have holes. This would take stitches, and it would take time to heal, and it most certainly hurt like hell, but it was not life threatening. For a moment he was unable to speak, but the look in his suspiciously bright eyes as he met Starsky's gaze told everything. His relief, his gratitude. _Thank you, God, for letting him live. Thanks Starsk, for not getting killed today._

Hours later, his wound stitched and wrapped in dressings, armed with instructions and prescriptions, Starsky let Hutch wheel him out of the hospital in the mandatory wheelchair. The painkillers started to do their magic, and the sharp pain had subsided to a dull ache. Finally settled in the passenger seat of the Hutchmobile, he tried to find a comfortable position. Resigned to the fact that he wouldn't find one, he turned to Hutch, who was just about to start the car.

"Hutch?"

"Yeah, Starsk?"

"Think we can go back to Webster's tomorrow?"

The blond head whipped around. _"What!"_ If he could have his way, this was the one place he didn't want to see again anytime soon. _Too close, way too close... only a few inches..._ Forcing himself to calm down, he asked, "Why would you want to go there? Don't think it will be open tomorrow, anyway, Webster was pretty shook up."

"Oh." A deep sigh from the passenger seat. "Too bad."

For a moment Hutch studied Starsky's face closely, taking in the lines of pain that still lingered, the unnatural pallor of his face. The disappointment over not being able to go to this store the next day. And for a moment this strong, tough, street wise cop looked like a little boy who had just been told that he couldn't go to his favorite ice cream parlor.

Hutch smiled slightly, so what if that place gave him the creeps, if it meant so much to Starsky, he would go there right away. Or whenever that place was open again. "Okay, I give - why is it so important to you?"

"You mean we'll go? When it's open again, I mean? Really?"

No trace of the hard nosed cop who could put the fear of god in a perp by just looking at him. Instead, an excited little kid who just found out that Santa was coming twice this year. His eyes turned a brighter shade of blue, and along with his smile, lit up his whole face. How could Hutch resist that look? The blond head nodded once, smiling, and for the moment he would have done anything to keep this look on his darker partner's face.

"Well, you see..." Starsky grinned shyly, ducking his head while still trying to look at Hutch, "See, when I was in there, I saw this great watch in one of the show cases..."

that's all, folks


End file.
